


The trivial 1 Hair Cut

by esther81828



Series: The Maze Runner: The Trivial [1]
Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-22
Updated: 2014-09-22
Packaged: 2018-02-18 09:13:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2343065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esther81828/pseuds/esther81828
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story is based on the novels of The Maze Runner Series, writen by James Dashner. This story happened when the first group of Gladers were put into the Glade for several months. When it was time the Gladers had to get their hairs cut, who will be the barber?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The trivial 1 Hair Cut

Being in the Glade for couple of months, the Gladers had established their own rules and orders. They had managed to build the homestead, the food shack, though there hadn’t had much food to cook, and the council hall. They had chosen people to take care of all the works; they got the cook, the leader, the slicers and the runners. A single problem came as the time went by: they didn’t had any one to take care of their appearance.

Of course they knew the appearance thing was shallow and pointless. There was no mirror, and they really didn’t bother keeping themselves nice-looking. When their hairs grew longer and their beards became full, they began to aware about the coming issues. The bacterium and louses hiding in those hairs, the unbearable hotness and the impossibility of keeping their faces and heads clean, they finally decided to face this simple but somehow very important problem.

They threw note inside the Box and asked for the tools of shaving. Then they got the razors and shaving creams, and couple of small, sharp scissors, but they still didn’t get a mirror. Whoever threw them here apparently didn’t want them know how they looked like.

The toolkit sent up by the Box was all they got, after all. So they better took it as a mercy.

“What in the world did those shuck-faces think we will do with these clanks?” Gally muttered when he pulled out one of the razors. He examined the blades at the end of the tiny bar, even didn’t know where to start.

“They must be the experts of these, so they suppose us to be as well,” Minho said. He handled a bottle of shaving cream and opened the lid of it. The smell of the content made him frowned and wrinkled his nose, “what was this shuck thing? I bet this will let your whole head be bald when you put it on. What a smart klunk.”

“You shank really think it’s gonna work? Seriously? Ain’t gonna put that klunk on my head. Never.” Alby rolled his eyes. He stood at the farthest spot from the very beginning since the toolkit be pulled up. Anyone could tell by the expression on his face that he didn’t believe those who put them here would give any useful thing to them.

“Oh you’re the one who need to cut off all the hair of all of us, Alby. Why don’t you take the lead as usually?” Indicating to the mess of Alby’s head, Minho snickered as he pretending to squeeze the cream out of the bottle.

“Ain’t you dare to do that, I am warning you,” Alby pointed at him. He took a step back, eyes widened.

“Get him down, Gally!”

Before Alby could turn away and take off, Gally had caught him by the upper arms and sent him to the ground. Alby’s face connected with the muddy soil, letting out a series of curses, then felt Minho on top of him and started to pour the cream on his head.

Several other boys laughed out loud at the rare disadvantage of Alby, oohing and aahing while Alby struggled to free himself.

Eventually Alby got on his feet and began to fight back. Minho threw the bottle at him and turned to run away, leaving Gally to be the target. Alby grabbed the razor out of Gally’s hand and hurled it out of sight, but before he could punch Gally on the face, Gally had taken a scissor in his hand and aimed it at Alby. All of them laughed hysterically, and Minho couldn’t even run far enough before he lay down on the grass and laughed like crazy.

“Ain’t you point me with that thing, Gally!” Alby yelled but interrupted by the burst of laughter. He leaned forward and put both hands on his knees, panting.

“Ready to get your hair cut, huh, leader?” Gally grinned. Then he launched himself at Alby, and called to Minho for help.

A contemptuous hum penetrated the chaos, calling the time up.

“So whenever you bugging shanks is finish with that, just let me know, good that?” Newt said emotionlessly, his lips curves into an odd arch.

He lifted off strands of hair from his shoulders and cloth, then rolled the scissor through his fingers.

“Newt? What the--” Alby stared at Newt’s fresh-cut hair, “When did you--”

Everyone gawked at him by the mention; Minho lifted his brow, and Gally dropped his arm, giving Alby a chance to punch him in the shoulder.

“Oh, when you’re playing those cute little games.” Newt replied with a shrug, “What, you’re done? I suppose you would play much longer. Go on, keep giggling about those scary monsters. I won’t bother you.”

“How could you do that?” Gally asked, “I mean, how could it even be possible for you to remember how to cut?”

“Donno. How could you possible to remember how to breathe? I just can, end of story.” Newt opened his palm and let go of the scissor, “Anyway, I am done. You shanks better work harder.”

He stepped back and turned to leave.

“Hey Newt, hold on!” Gally scurried forward to him, “You think you can help me with this?”

“Whoa oh, slim it, buddy, play it safe,” Holding out his hand to keep the distance, Newt tilted his chin to the scissor still held by Gally, “No can do until you put that bugging thing down, good that?”

“Well, if you can help Gally with that, then you can help us all up.” Minho approached the stunning group, managing to avoid Alby yet failed, rubbed the spot hit by Alby, “I am the second, then.”

“Then I will be third!” Another boy shouted.

The air suddenly filled with argument of boys talking over each other about the order. Newt stared at the chaos which fussier than the last one, grinned.

“Shut your shuck mouth up, right now.”

Alby’s voice sliced through the quarrel, made every one fell into silence.

“Since those shuck-faces messed with my head,” Alby glanced at Gally and Minho, who didn’t scare to stare back, “I thought I ought to be the first.”

“What, you--”Minho tried to argue, “It wasn’t--”

“Ain’t want to hear no word about this, shank.” Alby said in a matter-of-fact tone, “Good that?”

Minho shrugged instead of answering, and dropped himself on the ground into a sitting position, waiting reluctantly.

“Well, so you end up finish the management, yes?” Newt’s face was emotionless, but his voice betrayed him as if forcing back a burst-out laughter. “Then you better watch out of those nice little tools, buddy. Come over here with your messy fussy hair, Alby.”

Alby followed the instruction without a word. The other boys stood around those two, looking at Newt shaving off Alby’s curly black hair, which sticky and smelly with the cream just blending in. His movements were confident and nimble, as if he had done these things from the very first day of his life. He even didn’t scrape any inch of skin of Alby’s when he finished the progression.

“That is it. Now you’re bright and shine like a bugging Greenie.” Newt tapped on Alby’s shaven head, speaking with a smile.

Alby rubbed his own head and mumbled something that none of them could hear, standing up and walked away. He had to get use to this new style, after being coped in his dense hair all these time.

“Next!” Newt called out.

From the very moment, Newt had be nominated to be the Barber of the Gladers.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for anyone who leave me a comment or review or any suggestion :)  
> I will try my best to update this story series, each story couple of days!


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